


At Kings Cross

by DivineRedhead



Series: The Girl Who Lived [26]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Character Death, Gen, Genderswap, Harri is a girl, Kings Cross
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-31
Updated: 2013-08-31
Packaged: 2017-12-25 06:10:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/949562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DivineRedhead/pseuds/DivineRedhead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Afterlife is not quite what Harri expects it to be...</p>
            </blockquote>





	At Kings Cross

**Author's Note:**

> As always, the Harry Potter series belongs to J.K. Rowling. I've just borrowed her magic for a bit of entertainment.

She wakes to a world of blinding white, although echoes of that bright green flash still echo in her mind's eye. The ground beneath her is smooth and cool, and as she slowly pushes herself into a seated position she realizes the area around her to be vast. The ceiling above her is high and vaulted, the ornately carved columns and archways stretching on as far as she can see.

Its design is familiar... Green eyes blink in surprise as she recognizes it as a glowingly white Kings Cross Station.

'But that can't be right...' she murmurs to herself. Her last waking moments had had her standing in the Forbidden Forest, staring down her would-be executioner and his sycophants.

_**"...and either must die at the hand of the other."**_

"So I'm dead then..." The thought should be upsetting, but she finds the emotion won't come; her mind simply accepts it as a fact and then moves on. 

Glancing down at herself, she realizes she is no longer dressed in dirty, worn denim, but draped in a thin, shift dress that falls softly around her calves. Her glasses are no where to be seen, and she finds herself surprised that she doesn't even miss them. Rising to her feet, she pads across the pristine floor on bare feet, surveying the area around her. After walking for what seems like miles, she comes across a lone, stone bench. After hearing a wet, whimper come from underneath, she approaches it carefully only to suddenly reel backwards at sight before her. 

The... creature... is small, almost childlike with thin, spindly arms clutched tightly at its weak, frail frame. She feels repulsed at the sight of it, at its general wrongness, but its pitiful cries make her want to...

__"You cannot help."_ _

__She starts in surprise, staring up at a familiar aged wizard, resplendent in pale robes and not seeming the least bit out of place._ _

__He smiles down at her, his light blue eyes twinkling with quiet joy. "Harri…" His arms spread out wide, and she sees that both of his weathered hands are whole and hale. "You wonderful girl. You brave, brave young woman…"_ _

__Harri feels a number of emotions at the sight of Albus Dumbledore in this strange, curious world of white. Surprise, confusion, elation – a part of her wonders if there should be anger mixed in with that cocktail of emotions, but curiously enough there is none to be found._ _

__Of course, this does nothing but confuse her. After all, should she not be angry? In the back of her mind, the memories she witnessed in the Pensieve still replayed like an old movie reel. She'd been used, much like Snape, moved about like a little chess piece on a giant board. Her life – her short little life – had never been her own; it had been offered up as sacrifice for the greater good._ _

____

____**"…for neither can live while the other survives…" ** _ ___****____

__

______Still… while she may have been destined to be the sacrificial lamb, she had not ever been a weapon._ _ _ _ _ ____For that, she would always be grateful…_ _ _ _ _ _____She rises away from the bench under which the small creature lays, padding towards him as quickly as her bare feet will allow. Before she knows it, her arms are grasping the old wizard's robes, her face buried in his snow white robe. "Hello, Headmaster," she murmurs simply._ _ _ _ _

_ _

______Dumbledore enfolds her in his grandfatherly embrace before releasing her, his blue eyes twinkling still. "Hello, Harri," he returns. "Come, let us walk."_ _ _ _ _ _


End file.
